Lost in the Woods

Author's Note: This is darker than anything I've written before - call it catharsis, if you will.

It was a blazing hot 4th of July and there was so way that either of us were ready to face the stifling heat in our tent. Betty and I were pretty full of ourselves that summer, 19 and 18 respectively and determined to be women of the world. We'd set off on that post-graduation (mine) camping trip with the full intention of showing the world and ourselves what liberated, take-the-world-by-its-balls women we were.

So far, from that point of view, the trip was a bust.

Don't get me wrong, best friends for years; we'd been having a wonderful time. But our unspoken goal of meeting guys and losing it with someone really incredibly wasn't making any progress. Looking back it's easy to see how naïve and foolish we were, but at the time, we knew it all.

That was why that evening as we hiked through the national park we were laughing and talking loudly as we shared our Southern Comfort. The camp was full, but the primitive sites were secluded so we weren't worried about disturbing anyone. We walked arm in arm, comfortable in our close friendship.

"Hey there girls... want to party?"

We heard it after we'd passed the campsite – barely even noticing that it was there. Stopping, Betty and I looked at each other and began to giggle.

"Probably a coupla ol' fart red necks," she whispered to me and I laughed uproariously at her comment. Amazing what a pint of bourbon can do on an empty stomach.

"What should we do?" I whispered back to her. At 19 and with one year of college already under her belt, I looked to Betty as the older and wiser of our pair. Besides – she'd lost her virginity way back in high school. I was positively retarded next to her.

She tugged at my hand; drawing me back towards the campsite we'd passed. "Let's at least get a good look at who's there!"

My heart raced as I stumbled after her. Peaking around the edge of a boulder, we spotted the campers who called us. Unbelievably there, sitting at the wooden picnic table were two gorgeous young guys. We looked at one another in disbelief and then Betty spoke up.

"Did you guys call us?"

The taller one of the two stood up and gestured at us. He had a full beard and moustache – just Betty's type and waved us towards him. "We did indeed – come share our wine."

I knew the accent in an instant. French Canadian! I was hooked. I was quite the linguist as a high school student – fluent in French and able to hold my own quite nicely in Spanish too. I'd planned to major in both languages in college. What a cool opportunity to be with some really hot guys – and practice my skills as well! Betty didn't have to tug twice to get me to follow her into the campsite.

She sat down immediately next to the tall bearded guy, which left me to sit on the other side of the table next to his quieter dark haired companion. Nervous and excited, I immediately started babbling to them in French, which made them laugh. I blushed and they reassured me that I was very good and filled a cup with the red wine they'd been drinking... I gulped it down and saw it refilled immediately.

We were drunk already, Betty and I, and full of a determination to show them how mature and worldly we were, neither of us resisted when first her guy and then mine slipped arms around our shoulders and began kissing us. My head spun and I was sure it was with passion and not cheap red wine as only an 18-year-old girl can think.

Conversation evaporated into the humid night air as we began seriously making out with our two international lovers. They'd never lit a lantern as the sun went down and I couldn't even see Betty on the other side of the table. I could hear her though – obviously enjoying herself with her bearded hunk.

What's wrong with me? I thought. The guy's hands were on my full young breasts, kneading them harshly. It was the furthest I'd ever gone as I felt him untie my halter and slide his fingers underneath, squeezing my bare skin and tweaking my tender your nipples. Maybe I'm too drunk, I thought. That had to be it, because it wasn't feeling anything like what I had expected it too. I'd gotten more aroused from reading a steamy romance novel than from the feel of this strangers hand on my own flesh.

I gasped as his hand traveled down my belly, muscles convulsing instinctively at the touch. His mouth descended on mine again, filling me with the taste of cigarettes and wine and whatever the hell it was he'd had for dinner. Some shred of reason stirred within me and I started to push against him, trying to give him the idea that I wasn't into this as much as he was when his head slid into my hip hugger jeans and under my bikini panties.

Up to that point in time, (and not counting diapering which no one remembers anyway), no one's hand other than my own had come in contact with my pussy. To my shock and surprise, I realized that I was wet down there – and that he was feeling it too. I didn't know what to think. Was I more aroused than I'd thought? What would he think when he felt how hot and slick I was? Did I like it?

He didn't give me a chance to think, as his thick finger began to slide back and forth in my slit while his tongue plunged repeatedly deep into my mouth. Somewhere in my brain I realized that Betty was no longer sitting on the other side of the table and I wondered bizarrely if she'd gone off and left me. The situation was getting way beyond my control and my friend was nowhere around to rescue me.

Not that she would have. We'd talked up such a storm over the years that I'm sure she thought this was just what I wanted – anonymous, unattached sex. With rising panic, I realized, perhaps for the first time in my life, that it wasn't. Not at all.

While in the turmoil of these thoughts, I felt him pick me up in his arms and begin to carry me away with him. I struggled and managed to regain my feet for a moment only to have them collapse under me. I'd had way too much to drink and my legs had turned as much traitor to me as my best friend had. I heard his hoarse laughter as he swung me easily into his arms once more and carried me into his tent, tossing me onto his sleeping bag.

I tried to sit up, but my damn head wouldn't stop spinning... He shoved my halter over my head and his mouth descended onto my young breasts, sucking hard on them. I kept trying to tell him that I didn't want this – ridiculously in French of all things – but either I was saying it wrong or it didn't matter to him because he never faltered for a moment. He'd somehow already taken off all of his clothing and lying down on his back, forced my head down towards his crotch.

I'd never seen a man's penis let alone taken one in my mouth before, but he shoved my face into it, repeatedly. When I tried to protest, I found myself filled with his organ, pumping deeply into my mouth. I was gagging and sputtering. Later, I'd wonder why I hadn't just bitten off a few inches. I still can't answer that question.

Between the wine and the lock of air, I was beginning to pass out; the world was swimming in front of my eyes. Or maybe I just wanted to block it all out. How could this be happening to me? This wasn't the way it was supposed to be...

Perhaps I did become momentarily unconscious because the next thing of which I was fully aware was his weight on top of me. He held my arms over my head, pinning them down in one hand while with his other he was guiding his cock between my legs. I began to thrash furiously and cry out when his other hand clamped down over my mouth.

"Tais-toi, cheri," he whispered. "Tu vas l'aimer..."

My eyes were wide with terror – absolutely certain that I was NOT going to like this – when I felt him shove his thing hard up into me. I screamed behind his hand, sounding little more than a moan as I felt like I was being ripped in two, torn completely apart inside of me. Tears began to spill down my cheeks, so convinced was I that some serious damage had been done to my innocent body as he continued to pump himself hard into me. Oh God, please let me live through this, I silently prayed.

Suddenly he went completely still and grunted several times before going limp for a moment on top of me. I heard Betty's voice outside of the tent, calling my name and he rolled off of me, tossing my halter back to me.

"Voila, cheri...et merci bien..." he sneered at me as I scrambled to get dressed and out of that tent, rank with his smell and the odor of what we'd done.

Betty was laughing a placing a playful kiss on the lips of her bearded friend before coming over to me and wrapping an arm around my waist. She squeezed me lovingly.

"Wasn't that great?" she whispered as we walked off, not noticing my state or how much I was relying on her arm. She went on to gush about her experience with Mr. Bearded Wonder as my mind reeled. Insanely, I decided not to tell her what had really happened, as if in doing so I would lose face in front of my worldly friend. She'd finished her tale by the time we got back to our tent and I just pretended to be too drunk to talk, crashing onto my sleeping bag and rolling over with my back towards her.

Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I fell asleep, nursing my wounded body and spirit in a tiny cocoon of teenage girl.